


The Healing Touch

by Lurafita



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Fantasy AU, Healer Peter Parker, Healing Magic, Knight Bucky Barnes, Liberties have been taken, M/M, Magic, Mentions of Slavery, Protective Steve Rogers, Short, former slave Peter, inform me if tags are missing, king steve rogers, mentions of slavers, pre-relationship spideyshield
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2020-11-26 23:37:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20938673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lurafita/pseuds/Lurafita
Summary: Originally prompted by anon ask on tumlr.Subject matter: King!Steve x Healer!PeterAnd I was like: I smell a fantasy au :-)





	The Healing Touch

**Author's Note:**

> I'm taking some liberties with the way the characters talk here. Usually, when you have an environment with Kingdoms and knights and the like, you expect the story to have a certain... etiquette? Or, well, a certain kind of speech. Now, writing in a foreign language is already a challenge at times, but adding a kind of formal speech that is only seen in history books and period pieces, is simply too difficult for me to even attempt. So, since I'm not writing a historic period story, but rather a fantasy one with magic and the like, I think it's okay for me to have to characters speak in a more modern way (with words like 'fuck' and 'cool' and such), even though the plot doesn't play in a modern environment.

**The Healing Touch**

The grand palace doors sprung open with an echoing bang, as first knight and commander of the Kingdom's army, Sir James Barnes, dragged his heavily wounded and bleeding friend and King, his majesty Steve Rogers, into the entrance hall.

Two of the guards rushed forward to assist, but he paid them no mind.

“PETER!” He cast his gaze to one of the servants who was watching the scene with wide, shocked eyes. “You! Alarm the royal healer! Get Peter to the west wing immediately!”

The servant ran off to do as the knight had ordered, while the other guards helped Sir James to carry their King to the castle's healing chambers. The blond King, almost unconscious by this point (in no small part due to the head wound he had suffered), tried directing his head to look at James.

“Nooo... dn't tell Pete... he g'nna be cross wit me...”

James adjusted his hold on the slightly bigger man, which elicited a groan from the King.

“You can bet your fucking ass he is gonna be cross with you! I'M fucking cross with you! Of all the stupid, crazy shit you could have possibly pulled out of your royal ass, you go and do this!”

The guards and servants surrounding them weren't even shocked to hear Sir James speak to their King like this. The commander of the knights was one of the few who could afford such a disrespectful tone with their ruler.

The King tried to respond to his friend, but his speech was slurred so much, that the words were completely unintelligible. Thankfully they had reached the healing chambers at this point, and carefully lifted the man onto one of the beds. Just in time, it seemed, as running footsteps could be heard, preceding the royal healer who burst into the room.

The panicked light brown eyes landed on the first knight immediately.

“James! Where is-” then the younger man spotted their wounded King on the bed. “Steve!”

He rushed forward, the white robes of his profession fluttering, dainty looking hands already emitting the warm glow of healing magic.

Since the King had finally succumbed to to unconsciousness, Peter directed his question to James.

“What happened?”

Seeing the brunette's healing touch at work was always a bit of a marvel to the knight, so it took a second for him to shake off his awe and answer.

“One of my men had overheard what he believed was a gathering of slave traders in one of the empire's bars. And you know how Steve is about slavery. He insisted on investigating things himself. Only took me along because I threatened to kick his Kingly ass if he didn't.”

The guards that had helped Sir James carry the King, took up a post outside the room, while two servants carried different supplies for the healer's use, as well as new clothes for the King.

“We found their lair, but as we were about to leave to come back with armed troops, one of the slavers pulled one of the children forward. They were about to...” He averted his gaze, the act too heinous for him to voice. By the look on Peter's face, he got it anyway. James cleared his throat. “I told Steve to go and bring reinforcements back with him, but stubborn fool that he is, he charged. Idiot took a blow to the head while warning me about an attack from my blind side.”

The knight shook his head ruefully as he watched the still form of his friend on the bed with fondness and guilt. Before he could spiral into self loathing, Peter's voice brought him out of his thoughts.

“You know he wouldn't want you to blame yourself for his injury. His decisions and actions are his own, as King, and as a man. Beating yourself up over it would belittle his sense of responsibility.”

James couldn't help but smile.

“How many times has he said those words to you, for you to be able to repeat them almost verbatim?”

The younger man grinned a little as well, and the magical shine around his hands diminished slowly.

“I have lost count. It is hard to argue with him.”

“Don't I know it.”

Confident that his magic had sealed the head wound, Peter let his hands hover over the rest of the King's masculine body, trying to see if there were any more injuries that needed his attention. When he found nothing of greater concern, he nodded to Steve's handmaid _(an older gentleman who had waited patiently in a corner of the room)_, to start cleaning and changing their King. Then he turned to James.

“What about you? Here, sit down on this bed. Let me-”

The knight help up a hand.

“I'm fine, Pete. Just some bumps and scratches. Nothing worse than I get from the training session with the guards, or his royal dumbness over there. He good?”

Peter nodded.

“The injury looked more severe than it was, but head wounds always bleed a lot. He had a concussion, but my magic has taken care of that. He should sleep for a few hours, but then he will be good as new. What about the people you freed from the slavers?”

“I alerted one of the city guards we passed as I dragged Steve's ass back here, so they should be taken care of. The troops most likely took the people to the normal healers, and threw whoever had survived of the slavers to rot in the cells.”

And while compassion and kindness was as much a part of Peter's very core as his magical ability to heal, even he couldn't bring himself to feel sorry for the slavers. The brunette himself had been a slave, once, and witnessed first hand the cruelties of those that held people's life and freedom in their hands. He would forever be thankful for the fact that his former 'owners' hadn't done their research, when they decided to sell Peter to the newly crowned King of the Brooklyn lands. Steve had wasted no time with implementing a new law in his kingdom, one that outlawed slavery, by threat of execution. But Peter's captors hadn't known that, and they had paid for their ignorance with their lives.

King Rogers, Steve, had taken Peter and the other slaves in his group in, had made them free citizens of his kingdom, and made sure they had a home and a means to support themselves. The younger man, back then still in his last teenage years, had been so grateful, that he had revealed his healing magic to the King. The healing touch was rare, as unlike other magic, it couldn't be learned, no matter how skilled the wizard or witch who attempted it.

Steve had offered him the position of royal healer _(offered. Not ordered, not demanded, not __**forced**__)_, and over the years, Peter's deep felt adoration for the man had grown into love.

“Maybe I should take a look still.” His voice was unsure as his eyes flickered to the bed where Steve, now cleaned of any blood and newly dressed, was resting. He felt conflicted. There might be people in the regular healers chamber that were hurt. Especially the children. Yet he didn't want to leave his King's side.

James seemingly knew what was going through the slighter man's head, as he laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“I need to go down there and get the report from the guards anyway. If I see someone in need of your help, I will send for you.”

Peter brought his hand up to give the broader one on his shoulder a squeeze.

“Thank you, Bucky.” Only a handful of people were allowed to call Sir James by that nickname. Peter was proud to be one of them.

-

Steve woke to the familiar sight of the royal healing chambers _(he wasn't the kind of King who could just sit on his throne and let others fight his battles, so he was very used to getting hurt)_, and the _(just as familiar)_ sight of Peter having fallen asleep on a chair by his bedside. He sighed. Steve hated worrying the younger man like this, to the point where Peter fell asleep in what had to be a pretty uncomfortable position.

He quietly got out of bed, and tested his limbs. Just as usual, Peter's magic had taken care of all his aches and pains. He felt good as new. He kept his steps light and soft as he went around the bed to kneel before the sleeping healer, then carefully snaked his arms under Peter's knees and behind his shoulders and lifted him up.

Peter felt so delicate in his bigger, stronger arms. So much more lithe, when compared to the wide chest and shoulders of the blond King. It made Steve want to keep him there, cradled in the protection his muscular arms offered, shielded from everything that might harm him.

He thought about lowering Peter into the medical bed, so as not to risk waking him up _(the younger man was always exhausted when he had used his powers on someone. He had said it was normal, that healing someone always took a lot of energy, as he was technically working against nature's course.)_

But it felt wrong to not have the younger man close right now. Maybe it was because of the slavers they had found and fought. (Slavers. In his Kingdom. He hated the very thought of it.)

When one of the scumbags had dragged the small boy up front, and opened his trousers, he had felt so reminded of the day Peter had been brought into the Kingdom, presented to him like some plaything. Peter had been a slave, once. Had lived the life that the people he and Bucky had managed to free today had been threatened with. The memory of that fact nearly broke his heart.

So he adjusted his hold on his healer into a more secure grip, and still careful not to wake the younger man, made his way out of the room. The guards posted beside the door stood to attention as their King passed them, happy to see both their ruler and royal healer well. Steve passed a few more of his servants, guards, and even Bucky, on his way to his chambers, with his precious cargo held in his arms.

All of them had smiled and curtseyed at him, glad to see their King on his feet again, but aware to not voice their joy, as to not wake the sleeping healer. Bucky, of course, had given his friend a truly shit eating grin, while looking at Peter and wiggling his eyebrows. Naturally, Bucky knew all about Steve's feelings for their magical healer, and took great pleasure in needling Steve to make a move already.

And Steve had been thinking about doing just that more and more. His people already loved Peter, and would celebrate their union.

When he got to his room (the door having been opened for him by Phil, his handmaid, he stepped up to his big, lavishly decorated and soft bed, and oh so carefully lowered Peter down. He gently rearranged the younger man's limbs to get him under the covers, and then laid himself down beside him.

Night had already fallen, and it was dark out. While Steve didn't feel particularly tired after his healing sleep, he still didn't feel comfortable with leaving Peter's side, and relished in the chance of laying next to him.

He softly stroked two of his fingers along Peter's forehead, tucking a stray strand of hair behind the younger's ear. Peter was beautiful. His skin light and soft, slim but perfectly curved lips, little dimples that could be seen even in sleep. But he was also so much more than just a pretty face. Peter was warm, and giving, and kind, and funny. Loyal and trusting and just too lovely for this world. How could Steve not have fallen for him?

Then Peter moved, and for a moment, Steve thought his heart was about to stop, as the brunette scooted closer, tucking his smaller body right into the King's embrace. Still deeply asleep, Peter's subconscious had likely been attracted to the source of warmth from another human body. Not that Steve minded.

He wound his arms around the healers body, pressing him a little more into his own, and thought he felt a soft sigh against his collar bone.

Then and there, while slowly being lulled to sleep by feeling the other's heartbeat against his own chest, Steve decided that he would start courting Peter officially the very next day. But right now, he would let himself bask in the scent and warmth and feeling of having his love in his arms.

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> It kinda baffles me, that sometimes, when one writer takes inspiration from another writer's story, and puts their own ideas and twists into it, this particular plot becomes a trope. And then other times, when one writer takes inspiration from another writer's story, and puts their own ideas and twists intoit, they get attacked for stealing the idea.
> 
> I genuinely don't get this. (Well, no, actually I get it a little bit. Authors put a lot of work and love into their stories and it's only right to have that work be acknowledged.)
> 
> Look, let me explain.
> 
> I write about things I like, right?
> 
> I center my stories around the characters I like the most and create situations that I find exciting or appealing or enjoyable. (Or sometimes even sad or scary when I'm in a particular mood.)
> 
> Point of the matter is: I write what I want to read.
> 
> Which, to me, translates that I want others to get inspiration from my stories.
> 
> I want people to read my stuff and say: "I liked that. I'm gonna write something like that!", or: "This was a nice conclusion, but this story could have played out very differently. I would like to explore an alternate event.", or: "There was this one thing in this story that I would like to put into a different context.", or even: "Well, the idea itself was nice enough, but I don't think it was very well executed here. I would like to try my hand on this."
> 
> Because all of this, would afford me with a wide variety of stories to read that I would likely enjoy. (Not even to mention the great honor and ginormous ego-boost I would feel knowing that something I wrote somehow inspired someone else.)
> 
> So, with having explained my stand on this matter, please see this as blanket permission from me, to make use of anything written in my works of fanfiction you want.
> 
> Any prompt, plot bunny, vague idea, characteristics explored, circumstances written, or full on story of mine that has been published here;
> 
> \- if you want to write something with the same premise, but different developement
> 
> \- if you want to write something completely different, but want to use one aspect or characteristic featured in the stories
> 
> \- if you can find any inspiration from any of my works at all
> 
> PLEASE use whatever you need or want from them.
> 
> (Also, sorry I made you think this was a new chapter.)


End file.
